d chain him up; and there his piteous, sky-piercing calls, which
seemed to come from the roof of a house near him, first showed me what a
ventriloquist the animal can be."

"Why on earth did you banish him?" asked Neal.

"Because his plan of campaign, when loose, was to follow me about like a
devoted cat, climbing over me whenever he got the chance, with slobbery
fondness. But as soon as I was out of the way he'd steal every mortal
thing I possessed, from my most precious instruments to my latest tie
and handkerchiefs. I never saw anything to equal his ingenuity in
ferreting out such articles, and his incorrigible mischief in destroying
them. I chained him in the yard after he had torn my father's silk hat
into shreds, and made off with his favorite spectacles. Whether he wore
them or not I don't know; he chewed up the case; the glasses no man
thereafter saw. I couldn't endure his piteous cries for reconciliation
while he was in banishment, so I gave him away to a friend who was
suffering from an imaginary ailment, and needed rousing.

"Talking of fathers, boys, reminds me that I feel responsible to Francis
Farrar, Esq., for the welfare of his lusty sons. Neal had a pretty
tiring time last night, and only about two hours' sleep since. I don't
suppose any of us are outrageously hungry, seeing that we had some kind
of breakfast at an unearthly hour. Here we are at camp! I propose that
we turn in, and try to sleep until noon. What do you say?"

Their leader having wound up his talk, thus, neither of his comrades
ventured to oppose his suggestion, though they felt little inclined for
slumber.

"Pleasant day-dreams to you, fellows!" said Cyrus three minutes
afterwards, flinging off his coat, and throwing himself on his mattress
of boughs, while he wiped the steady drip of perspiration from his
forehead and cheeks. "This day is going to be too warm for any more
rushing. Our variable climate occasionally gives us these hot spells up
to the middle of October; but they don't last. So much the better for
us! We don't want sizzling days and oppressive nights, with mosquitoes
and black flies to make us miserable. October in this country is the
camper's ideal--month"--

The last sentence was broken by a great yawn, followed presently by a
snort and an attempt at a shout, which quavered away into a queer little
whine. Garst had passed into dreamland, where men revel in fragmentary
memories and pell-mell visions.

CHAPTE